


In The Dark Of Night

by Ambrose



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 01:55:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4161240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambrose/pseuds/Ambrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benvolio accidentally finds himself in the company of a man he hasn't seen in a long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Dark Of Night

“Do I know you?”

The man at his side chuckled. “It's a bit late for bad pick up lines, don't you think?”

And that it was. They'd hooked up at carnival, and ended up in some crappy motel that rented rooms by the hour. He'd not been back in town for two days and already he was acting stupid. He'd swear, there was something with this city that was messing with his brain. Or maybe it was Mercutio's influence. But if he were honest with himself, he'd say his family had a lot to do with it. He wasn't even sure now why he came back.

This had been, in a way, an escape. Fuck like you don't care, hook up with strangers, and if you get hurt... well, no-one would go looking for him anyway. They were too busy with their fights.

It had been rough. Like it was that man's way to channel his anger. And his own as well. It felt desperate. And certainly not personal.

Only there was something familiar with his features, which he dismissed at first, but now...

“I'm serious, though. Would it be weird if I asked you your name?”

The man let out yet another humourless chuckle. “Tybalt,” he shrugged.

_Shit._ “Capulet?”

“Yeah.”

Damn. He was dead. There was no way he'd get out of this alive. How did he even manage to put himself in this situation? Not two days in town and...

“How'd you know? What's yours.”

Tybalt would not let that go, he would not let someone like him walk around with the knowledge that they'd fucked.

He took a deep breath. Looked away. “Benvolio. Montague.”

“ _What? Are you fucking kidding me?”_ In no time, Tybalt was dressed and ready to leave. 

“Wait, it's not...”

“You thought you could fuck with me? What, to make fun of me with your little friends? _Don't fucking touch me!_ ”

Benvolio had reached for him, but Tybalt just shoved his hand away as he reached the door.

“I didn't know!” Benvolio yelled back at him.

“Do you expect me to believe you?!”

“I'm not _stupid_...”

“You're a Montague!”

“But not suicidal! You really think I would have asked if I knew who you were?”

Tybalt paused at this. Benvolio used the opportunity to go on - “I didn't give a fuck who you were, I don't now either. Just... don't go on a murder spree on a misunderstanding.”

Tybalt frowned. Probably upset at the “murder spree” comment. But then, there was nothing _not_ true in that. He recovered quite quickly, however, and pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“If you ever even _consider_ telling anyone...”

“Why would I do that?” Benvolio answered. “How would that even make me look any good?” he started putting on his clothes, now feeling vulnerable in front of Tybalt. He tried to ignore him, even as he went on: “for the last time, I don't care; I've never cared about your fights. I don't want to get mixed-up up in this.”

“Everyone cares about the fights, they're...”

“They're what? The daily concerns of everyone in this city? Not me, Tybalt. I left a long time ago.”

He was now ready to leave, and Tybalt was still hanging by the door. “Then why are you here?”

Benvolio sighed. “Let's just go our separate ways, shall we? You don't care for the answer either.” Of course Tybalt probably would not like to see him later on in the streets of Verona – as his aunt had asked him to keep an eye on her son, his younger cousin Romeo, who was acting up. And he felt a bit like a jerk for not telling him, but at the same time, he owed him nothing. Had they been just strangers, they'd have just parted ways never to see each other again. _But you're not_ , a voice whispered at the back of his mind – memories of a childhood long gone, shared games, and friendship. _Only that?_ of a time when names were nothing and he hadn't discovered yet what pain it brought to kiss boys and enjoy it. He had soon learned. He ignored the thought, and left – if felt like fleeing, like it had felt when he'd decided to go away from Verona, live with his aunt's sister in Mantua where no-one knew him. _Better flee than fight; better flee than die._ Didn't mean he was proud of it.

Asking Tybalt's name had been a bad idea. Hell, fucking him had been a bad idea. So was going to the carnival. So was coming back. He cursed. And while Tybalt was still hanging there, perplexed, Benvolio left. It was no use staying, just like it was no use looking back. Not on Tybalt, frozen there on the doorstep of that motel room, and certainly not on the series of major fuck-ups that his life had been so far. But if he could avoid doing the former, he couldn't help it if his mind went back to the others, relentless.

 


End file.
